


Every Part, No Exceptions

by DelightfulExcess (SevereStorms)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Age Difference, Belly Kink, Body Image, Body Worship, Carlos is also a good boyfriend, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil is older, Chubby Carlos, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Insecurity, M/M, Sexual Content, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3698066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevereStorms/pseuds/DelightfulExcess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos is chubby because sometimes people just are. Cecil likes it because sometimes people just do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Part, No Exceptions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NikiPaprika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikiPaprika/gifts).



“…. _perfect_ Carlos,” the pleasant voice on the radio said, and Carlos stopped what he was doing, setting down his calipers and looking at the device in confusion.

“That poor guy has it bad, Carlos,” said one of the other scientists. “You and your perfect hair, breaking hearts wherever you go.”

“What? What poor guy? What is this?” he gestured at the radio in bafflement.

“The guy from the local station, Cecil something. You didn’t hear him after that press conference? He said he fell in love with you. _Instantly_.” She clasped her hands and fluttered her eyelashes, a lovestruck cartoon, seconds before the anvil drops.

“No, I didn’t hear that,” Carlos said, thinking about the sidelong glances and quickly-covered smiles he had noticed in town over the last few days. He sighed. “It’s not very nice, singling someone out like that.”

“You don’t think he’s sincere?”

He smiled. “ _Perfect Carlos?_ No way.” He rested one hand on his belly with a rueful sigh. He knew he wasn’t bad-looking overall, and his confidence in his intelligence was high, but he was a realist. His last partner had frequently teased him about his gradual weight gain, and although it hadn’t been directly responsible for their breakup, he suspected it had been a factor.

If he had been unhealthy, he might have worried more about it, but his blood pressure, cholesterol, and other biometrics were all fine. He walked regularly and didn’t eat a lot of junk food, he was just genetically predisposed to a particular body shape and his DNA was having its way with him.

He knew he could work against his own genetics to some extent, but he was in a strange place in his relationship to his body. His shape had changed as he had gotten older, but it had never conformed exactly to the arbitrary standards of male beauty. He knew those standards were insane and had little applicability in actual reality, and he knew almost nobody met those standards, but he still felt, somehow, that he _ought_ to. Still, since he didn’t want to starve or adopt some draconian workout regime, this was probably what he would look like from now on, more or less. He could accept it, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to _like_ it. That was the real challenge.

He glanced down at himself. His middle rounded out extravagantly over the top of his jeans, defiantly failing to resemble a six-pack, blatantly imperfect. There was no way that anyone would fall in love with him at first sight, and even if they did, what kind of person then announced such a thing to anyone and everyone within range of their radio signal?

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said, picking the calipers up and adjusting his safety glasses. “We’re not here for love. We’re here for science.”

_______________________________________

“Cecil Palmer,” the man said, taking Carlos’s hand with a tremulous sigh. “I don’t think we’ve met, at least not formally. And you’re Carlos. Carlos the Scientist.”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, that’s me.” Carlos said. He had expected avoidance or perhaps some subtle brand of mockery, but Cecil seemed utterly sincere. If he was being facetious, he was delivering an astonishing performance, and one that served no clear purpose.

“So,” Cecil said. “What brings you to the station?” He asked this with an openly flirtatious up-and-down glance that actually made Carlos blush. Carlos had been expecting hostility or indifference. He wasn’t at all prepared for charm.

“I’m testing the radio station for certain materials,” he said vaguely, gesturing at the device in his hand. “It’s…you know, for science.”

And speaking of science…he glanced down at the device in his hand, which was blinking and ticking like crazy. Science was telling him he needed to get out of here. Now.

“What does that mean?” asked Cecil, peering over at the flickering display. “Does that mean there _are_ materials here? I always suspected the station was immaterial, but hey, you’re the scientist.”

Carlos looked up and realized that the man’s wide eyes – of an indeterminate color, hard to tell behind the glasses – were focused intently on his face. It was a little unsettling. He tried to stand up straighter and suck in his gut. “Um, well, the radio station is definitely material,” he answered. “And yes, the particular materials I was interested in are present. In quantities. _Large_ quantities. Dangerous quantities.”

“Well, that sounds important. Could you stick around for an interview? I’m sure our listeners would love to hear all about it. Whatever it is.”

He looked at Cecil and a stray thought - _so handsome_ \- flickered through his mind. _Treacherous synapses_.

“I’d better not,” he said, stepping back and collecting his equipment. “Actually, I have to go. And so do you.”

“Are we going somewhere together?” Cecil asked, smiling delightedly. His smile made him look ten years younger and Carlos felt something in his heart go _ping_.

“Ah, no. Actually, I mean that you should – everyone should – evacuate the building.”

“Oh,” Cecil looked genuinely disappointed. “Right now? I really can’t, I’ve got a show to do, and station management has a...um, _strenuous_....stance on absenteeism. Besides, the damage is probably done, right?” That smile again. _Shit_.

“Well,” Carlos said, zipping up the carrying case for the device and stepping past the “On Air” sign. “I’ve been wrong before. Maybe it’s nothing. Good luck.” And he left as quickly as possible, his heart pounding.

____________________________________________

He didn't see Cecil again for months, and when he finally did – during the series of mysterious earthquakes that were detectable with seismometers but which had no actual physical effect on the town - he noticed the other man's eyes wandering toward his hair and then darting away as if it hurt to look.

"Is Telly the barber really wandering the sand wastes giving haircuts to cacti?" he asked after the fourth time he caught Cecil’s reaction to his shorter hair.

"If not, he deserves to be," Cecil answered, letting one hand drift over Carlos’s shoulders. "Where did you get this shirt?" he asked as Carlos tried - tried - to concentrate on the reading from the seismometer. "It fits you _so_ well." Carlos glanced up to see Cecil staring at him, biting his lower lip, looking so ridiculously handsome and adorable that Carlos was momentarily stunned. A long moment passed.

"Um," Carlos finally said. "I- that is...." and he backed away, slipping behind the computer and pulling his lab coat around himself. The shirt did fit a little more tightly than most of the others in his limited wardrobe - it was almost _too_ tight. He couldn’t stand the idea of Cecil’s hand trailing down his chest and out over his belly, which the shirt clung to and accentuated rather than concealed. He could only assume that somehow, Cecil hadn’t gotten a very good look at his body under his loose-fitting lab coat, as impossible as that seemed. He knew Cecil would be disappointed, possibly even disgusted, and as difficult as it was to endure Cecil’s obviously misguided affection, it would be even worse to watch it vanish.

"I'd better check the computer model – um, or my notes - or something,” Carlos said. Cecil's face fell and Carlos felt a corresponding plunge in his chest. He wanted to kiss that look right off Cecil's face, to wrap his arms around the other man and tell him not to be ridiculous, he wasn't being _rejected_ , he was just being _avoided_. For very good reasons that had nothing to do with his worth as a human being. But Carlos did none of those things.

________________________________________________________

With each subsequent encounter, Carlos was more and more tempted by Cecil’s charm, but the mystery of Cecil’s instant attraction kept him wary. Maybe - maybe - he might have accepted that Cecil could grow to like him over time, but love at first sight still seemed impossible. And so he resisted, and kept resisting until the day when it suddenly no longer seemed important _why_ Cecil liked him, because it was inarguably true that he _did_. In the aftermath of the bizarre incident at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, Cecil was the only person Carlos wanted to talk to, his the only face Carlos wanted to see.

His acknowledgment of his affections for Cecil made him uncomfortably self-conscious during their first several dates. He kept searching for signs of Cecil’s inevitable disenchantment, kept waiting for whatever blindness had afflicted the man to wear off, for him to just see that Carlos wasn’t the way Cecil had made him out to be. Each time it didn’t happen, Carlos felt relieved and worried in equal measure; he had evaded the promise of a painful breakup conversation for today, but it might happen at any time. He had tried to keep a safe distance from his feelings, but it became increasingly clear with each subsequent date that it was futile. If Cecil rejected him, he would feel it, it would be painful, and he would get hurt.

Carlos had proposed the movies for tonight's date, figuring he’d feel slightly more comfortable sitting side by side in the dark, attention focused on the screen ahead. He wouldn’t be under scrutiny, he could relax and just be himself without worrying about what he looked like.

At first it had seemed his plan had succeeded. He held Cecil’s hand on the armrest between their two chairs, and Cecil rested his head on Carlos’s shoulder. It was comfortable, and Carlos felt his self-consciousness melting away in the safety of the dark theater. Then, in the second act, the movie got scary.

“I’m terrible at scary movies,” Cecil whispered. “I’ll probably have to close my eyes, I can’t stand it when they’re walking through the darkness with the flashlight and the creature is right behind them the whole time…” he squeezed Carlos’s hand hard. Carlos wrapped an arm around Cecil’s shoulders. As the film’s suspense increased, Cecil turned his face into Carlos’s chest and clung to him, his hand coming to rest perilously close to a love handle. Carlos gasped in surprise.

“I can’t look!” Cecil whispered. “Is it there? In the basement?”

“Um, not yet,” Carlos whispered back, struggling to recover his composure. “But there are a lot of shadows and creepy pieces of antique furniture covered with bedsheets…so it could be _anywhere_.”

“Stop it,” Cecil laughed, but he kept his face pressed to the front of Carlos’s shirt. His hand began to move over Carlos’s belly, and Carlos tensed.

“What’s happening now?”

“They’ve split up,” Carlos sighed. “Because they’re idiots.”

Cecil peeked at the screen, and his hand paused right on top of Carlos’s stomach. On the screen, bedsheets billowed ominously in the cobwebbed corners of the basement. Cecil’s hand resumed its movement over his belly. “Mmmm. You feel so good,” Cecil murmured as he snuggled closer.

And just like that, Carlos realized he might have been wrong about everything.

“Here,” he said, and lifted the armrest that separated their two seats. Cecil slid over, wrapping one arm around Carlos’s back as Carlos replaced his own arm around Cecil’s shoulders. Cecil’s other hand came back to rest on Carlos’s stomach, and although he flinched away from Cecil’s touch at first, he gradually relaxed as Cecil resumed his gentle, appreciative stroking. Although it was slightly embarrassing, this tacit acknowledgement of Carlos's comfortably upholstered self, it also felt intimate in a way Carlos had never expected.

Later, as Carlos walked Cecil home, Carlos braced himself and asked, "Cecil?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you have a, um," he searched for the least offensive way to ask his question, "like a fetish or a kink or something?"

"Sure, doesn't everyone?"

Cecil must have misunderstood. "No, I mean...do you have a kink about, um, a particular body type?”

“No, not that I’m aware of,” Cecil said, glancing at Carlos. “Why, would you like me to? I’m sure I could develop one.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just wondered,” he said. He considered asking about the kink Cecil did have, but thought better of it. It would be more fun to find out for himself.

“Since we’re talking about kinks and whatnot,” Cecil said, “I was wondering…” he trailed off, regarding Carlos uncertainly.

“You can ask me,” Carlos said gently, squeezing Cecil’s hand. “It’s okay. I’m hard to offend.”

“Well, you don’t have a thing about your partners being much older than you, do you? No unresolved issues with your dad, anything like that?”

Carlos stopped walking and turned to look at Cecil. “No, why?” he asked, totally bewildered.

“It’s just…well, I’m so much older than you are. I kind of wondered. It wouldn’t necessarily be a problem, it’s just that I’m not really the toppiest person, and sometimes with younger guys…” he trailed off as he noticed Carlos’s expression. “What?”

“You’re not that much older than me,” Carlos said. “You’re what, like 36? I’m 31.”

Cecil smiled, and Carlos felt it in his solar plexus, as always. _Oof_. It was a nice smile. “I’m 44, you flatterer. Or at least, I think so. It’s a little hard to keep track. I’m definitely 40-something. I think.”

“Oh,” Carlos felt nonplussed. “Well, you definitely don’t look it. I’m not just being nice,” he added quickly. “It honestly never even occurred to me.”

“Does it bother you?”

Carlos reflected for a moment. “No,” he said. “I’m completely unbothered. It’s not like you’re old enough to be my dad. A teacher, or a professor, maybe,” he studied Cecil’s face with a wry smile. “A _hot_ teacher.”

“Ah,” said Cecil. “Well, we can certainly work with that.”

________________________________________________________

They spent long stretches of time at the end of each date kissing. Cecil was an excellent kisser, quick to abandon things that Carlos didn’t like, doubling down on the things that evoked more enthusiastic responses. Both of them had tried the limits of their restraint, restricting themselves to kissing and touching while clothed, always stopping before getting too carried away, learning each other with fingers and tongues.

Tonight, they were entwined on Cecil’s couch, and it seemed they had both reached the limits of their restraint. Cecil straddled Carlos’s hips, and Carlos gripped Cecil’s ass hard and pulled him closer. Cecil’s erection ground against Carlos’s belly and Cecil made a sound deep in his throat that was so unbelievably raunchy Carlos felt his cock twitch in response. They were as close to fucking as two people could get while fully clothed, locked hotly together at lip and hip, and it was just too much bliss to be sustained.

Carlos pulled away, breathing hard. “Cecil,” he whispered. “I think we have to decide right now if we’re just going to make out, or if we’re doing something else. Because if we keep doing this…I think I might die, or at least embarrass myself.” He couldn't quite keep himself from pushing up against Cecil's body, he was so desperate for release. 

Cecil swept his thumbs along Carlos’s cheekbones. “Gorgeous Carlos,” he said. “I couldn’t stand it if you died.”

“I’m not too enthusiastic about the idea myself,” Carlos said with a smile. Cecil collapsed against him and Carlos held him for a few seconds. They breathed together for a little while.

“I’m up for more if you are,” Cecil finally said quietly into Carlos’s shoulder.

“I am,” Carlos said. “Is there anything special I should know – anything you don’t like?”

“Right now, I cannot think of a single thing you could propose that I would not be willing to try,” Cecil said. “But…I may have burned through most of my fuse,” he said a little shyly. “I think I could probably go off if you breathed on me, actually.”

“Really?” Carlos asked, shifting Cecil on his lap. “Well, maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll be wrong.”

And Carlos did, and Cecil was.

______________________________________________________

Later, they made it to the bedroom and lay together naked on top of the bedspread for a while until eventually Cecil got up and made his way to the window. He held up a cigarette and asked, “Do you mind?” as he cranked the window open.

“You could set the room on fire and I wouldn’t mind,” Carlos said. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Only sometimes.”

“Isn’t it bad for your voice?”

“That depends,” Cecil said, exhaling smoke out the window, “On how you like my voice to sound.”

“Hmmm,” Carlos said, thoughtfully. “You do have an interesting voice,” he said. “I guess the smoke might not be that bad, if you don't mind sounding a little gravelly."

"Interesting," Cecil repeated. "Would that mean that you find it _attractive?_ "

Carlos smiled. "Oh, yeah. I especially liked it about ten minutes ago when you were swearing and shouting.”

“That _was_ nice.”

“I’d like to try that again,” Carlos said, glancing at Cecil where he sat on the ledge next to the window. “I’d like to make you scream your head off until you can hardly talk. I’d like to hear you all hoarse and raspy on the radio and know that I’m the one who made you that way.”

“You see?” Cecil sighed, flicking ash out the window. “This is one of the things about May-December relationships that 31-year-olds just don’t understand. I’m going to need a little while before I do any more screaming.”

“I suppose I could let you have a little while longer,” Carlos yawned. “And we’re more like July-August. September, tops.”

Cecil finally extinguished the cigarette and came back to bed, curling himself around Carlos and burying his face in Carlos’s hair with a hum of pleasure.

“Carlos,” Cecil said, stretching the name like salt water taffy. He snuggled close, pressing skin to skin and tightening his arms around Carlos’s body. “Mm. Your hair smells so nice. Thank you for letting it grow back.”

“I didn’t have much choice. Nobody would touch it after what happened to Telly.”

“Good.” Cecil’s hands moved over his chest, swirling in the coarse hair there, then moved lower, over his belly, tracing the shape of it, circling his navel. “God,” Cecil breathed. “You’re so sexy. We might not have to wait that long after all.”

“Cecil,” Carlos muttered, embarrassed, although Cecil's touch was undeniably arousing. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t have to do what?”

“Give me little pep talks about my looks. I’m…more or less okay with my body, but I have eyes, and my apartment does have mirrors.”

“More or less… _okay_?” Cecil asked.

“Well, yes. We don’t live in a society that appreciates roundness, Cecil. I can hardly even bring myself to say the word ‘fat,’ it’s too…I don’t know, _charged_ , somehow, but that’s what I am.”

“Society?” Cecil said blankly, as if he had never heard of it or the influence it wielded over its denizens. “I am _not_ being nice,” he said. “I promise you, I’m being completely self-indulgent and brutally honest. I’m wildly attracted to you. I would’ve thought I’d made that extremely clear, what with the year of public admiration on the radio and the almost constant attempts to turn our every conversation toward weekend plans.”

“Well…yeah, but-”

“But nothing.”

“Cecil,” Carlos said, exasperated. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed this,” he said, covering Cecil’s hands with his own and pushing them into the soft flesh of his belly.

Cecil’s expression grew dreamy and his skin flushed a little. “Of course I have,” he practically purred. “I love it. It feels wonderful. I always knew it would.” He squeezed Carlos gently between his hands. “Oh, _god_ , it makes me feel…just _insane_ with lust. So lush and round and warm and soft...” He pushed his hips against Carlos's backside and kissed his neck.

“I thought you didn’t have a fat kink.”

“I don’t,” Cecil said. “For a smart person, it’s taking an awfully long time for you to figure out that I just like the way you look. Just you. All of you. Every part. No exceptions.”

Carlos stared down at Cecil's hands for a long time. Cecil wasn’t lying; the physical evidence of his attraction was currently pressing against Carlos's backside rather insistently. Somehow, this was actually true.

"I'm struggling with that," Carlos said. "I can see that you seem fine with it. But it's hard. It's so stigmatized, it's one of the hardest things there is, not just to accept, but to _embrace_."

"There is nothing about you that is hard to embrace, you perfectly gorgeous idiot," Cecil murmured. "The very qualities you are currently deriding are the exact things that make you so very embraceable. This..." he smoothed his hands over Carlos's stomach and squeezed, catching his breath. "This is... _so_ hot. God, maybe I _do_ have a kink. Is it possible to have a kink about just one person? Hello there, kink I didn't know I had, what a pleasure to meet you."

Carlos turned to look at him and Cecil smiled, resuming his gentle stroking of Carlos's belly. “You're being much too hard on yourself. People are, I suppose. Do you think I don’t have any insecurities? I mean, I hate to point this out, but it's not like _my_ stomach is completely flat, either.”

“You don't have anything to feel insecure about,” Carlos replied instantly. "You're so handsome."

Cecil didn’t say anything right away, but leaned forward and kissed him firmly on the mouth, once, twice.

“That’s just what I think about you. Don’t you see?” 

"I do, but...I figured you were just being...generous. Kind."

"Like I keep telling you," Cecil said, "You're the scientist, and I rely on you for logic, so correct me if I'm wrong, but it sounds to me like you're under the impression that I've been killing myself to get you into bed for more than a year so that I can be generous and kind to you...and now you're trying to talk me out of it? Does that make any sense?" 

"No," Carlos admitted. "And that....feels _really_ good."

"This?"

"Yes...mmmm."

Cecil kissed him again, but made it more interesting this time, doing slippery things with his tongue against Carlos’s lower lip. “Now let’s stop arguing about this ridiculousness so I can enjoy the ministrations of my unspeakably beautiful boyfriend,” he said, sinking his fingers into Carlos’s hair and pulling him down on top of him. “Let’s just see if you can wreck my voice for radio.”


End file.
